


A Painted Finger and a Touch on the Nose

by panicking



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fun!, M/M, delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!, fingerpainting!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:29:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicking/pseuds/panicking
Summary: “Do you really think that I want to stay in an apartment alone with Grantaire for two and a half hours?” hissed Enjolras





	A Painted Finger and a Touch on the Nose

**Author's Note:**

> “me and your roommate share a class together and help each other study weekly and you’re an annoying twat who thinks its funny to keep interrupting us and wait what do you mean they’re running late? no im not waiting here alone with you for two hours are you insane” au  
> originally posted to [my tumblr](http://adamsveins.tumblr.com), even though I don't remember writing this fic!

“What do you mean, you have a surprise two and a half hour lab?” Enjolras stood up from his perch on the stool in the shared apartment of Combeferre and Grantaire. He was ten minutes early, as usual, for his and Combeferre’s weekly anthropology study session.

“I mean that this lab will take approximately two and a half hours, my professor just assigned it, and this is the only time that the entire group can work on it together. I do apologize, Enj. You are more than welcome to stay at the apartment until I can get there, R certainly will not mind.”

“Do you really think that I want to stay in an apartment alone with Grantaire for two and a half hours?” hissed Enjolras. Grantaire had made it a habit to always be in the apartment when Enjolras and Combeferre studied together. Enjolras wasn’t sure how he did it, but somehow Grantaire always managed to paint loudly. Either he was humming or talking on the phone or simply using his paintbrush in a noisy, irritating way. Enjolras was not sure, but it annoyed him to no end.

“Well, the alternative is for you to go to a coffeeshop again, making it about the fourth time today, which, as Joly so kindly reminded you, is extraordinarily unhealthy. Unless, of course, you would rather go back to your place?” Combeferre paused as Enjolras weighed his options and paced. Going back to his apartment was not in his best interest, as his roommate, Courfeyrac, hosted a weekly drama club that mainly performed improv and dramatic Shakespeare readings. A coffeeshop was not a good idea, either, but Enjolras almost would have preferred Joly’s admonishments to staying in a room with Grantaire for longer than he had to.

Enjolras sighed. “I’ll be here when you’re done with your lab. Just hurry, will you?” Combeferre laughed and hung up, presumably unaware of Enjolras’s plight.

Enjolras did not necessarily dislike Grantaire, he just did not like him in the slightest. He was always loud and skeptical, occasionally butting into their anthropology discussions with ridiculous ideas and accusations that had no real basis in fact. Another mark against him was that he was unfairly attractive, with dark skin and very nice forearms. Enjolras had no intention of finding someone as bothersome as Grantaire that attractive.

Enjolras turned to the room at large and cleared his throat slightly. “Hey, Grantaire?”

“Yeah?” came a voice from one of the bedrooms. Grantaire soon came into view, significantly shorter than Enjolras and quite a bit messier.

“Ferre called and said that he’ll be two and a half hours late. Is it okay if I stay here until he gets back?”

“Do I look like I really care?” asked Grantaire, raising a single eyebrow.

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer. Feel free to practice your lawyering.”

Enjolras huffed and began to spread his things out on the counter, balancing his bag on one of the stools. Soon enough, he was as fully absorbed in one of his readings as he could be, considering that he only agreed with half of the arguments that the author based her thesis on.

“You do know that we have free coffee here, right?” asked Grantaire, nearly startling Enjolras out of his seat. Grantaire’s face was about two feet from his own, as Grantaire was standing on the other side of the counter, bag of coffee grounds in hand.

“I mean, I make killer coffee. Do you want some?” Enjolras nodded, a small frown on his face. Grantaire was not normally this nice, although Enjolras did consider that the two had never actually spent time together.

“Do you want anything else?” Grantaire asked as he poured the hot water. “How about a pb&j?”

“You really don’t have to make me anything, but thank you, that’s very kind,” answered Enjolras, trying to reabsorb himself into the reading.

“Are you sure? I make spectacular pb&js. Bossuet nearly cried one time, I swear. If it makes you feel any better, I’m making one for myself too.”

Enjolras sighed in defeat. “You know what, I forgot to eat lunch. Sure, if you’re already making one, thank you.” Grantaire nodded and began clattering around the kitchen.

A moment later, Grantaire silently set the mug of coffee next to Enjolras, just within arm’s reach. Enjolras reached out unconsciously and took a sip, murmuring appreciatively without taking his eyes off his laptop, fully engrossed in his homework.

A short while after that, Grantaire presented Enjolras with what one could call a pb&j sandwich. Enjolras started at the mention of his name and nearly dropped his coffee. He made sure he didn’t spill anything before looking at the sandwich and Grantaire.

“What is that?” he asked, momentarily confused.

Grantaire handed him the plate before answering, leaning his elbows on the counter and grinning. “It’s a grilled pb&j with french toast, peanut butter, bacon, maple syrup, and blueberry jam.” He laughed at Enjolras’s expression. “I worked at this gourmet pb&j food cart for about a year and remember all of the recipes. This is my favorite, so I managed to convince them that they should serve it all the time instead of just in the morning.” Grantaire looked out into the middle distance for a second, savoring the memory.

“Come on, take a bite. If you don’t like it, I’ll make you a normal sandwich, don’t worry.” He waited expectantly as Enjolras took a bite, chewing slowly.

“I have never tasted something quite like this,” said Enjolras hesitantly. He took another bite, chewing with intention. “I think I like it. The bacon is unusual but it works, somehow. How does this all work together?”

Grantaire laughed and launched into a speech about combining flavors and how it really is an art form unto itself, and since he was an artist, he should at least be aware of all forms of art. Enjolras had, at this point, closed his laptop and shoved his things to the side to make room for Grantaire and the food.

The conversation gradually shifted and the pair spent quite a while on the difference between creating and consuming art, both literally as pertaining to food and theoretically as pertaining to paintings and other, non-edible art forms. Grantaire, to Enjolras’s surprise, was insightful and courteous throughout the debate, talking about points from both sides and having an astonishingly well thought out argument.

The debate ended with Grantaire standing up. “Look, since you’re obviously not an artist, I’ll have to show you.” He ignored Enjolras’s protests that he had work to do and grabbed him by the arm, taking him to the easel in the slightly offset office/studio.

“Here. You can start with red, it’s by far your color,” said Grantaire as he thrust a small jar of red paint at Enjolras.

“Look, normally, I like to paint with mixes of colors to get specific ones, you know? You can’t just paint with five colors. I mean, you can, with a palette, but like, that’s different. Normally you need lots of – nevermind. I’m teaching you to fingerpaint. Now, get some paint on your finger – more than just a dot of paint, Enjolras – and start painting.”

Enjolras did as Grantaire instructed, starting with abstract shapes and moving on to more concrete objects, such as cats and more cats. Grantaire eventually joined in, accentuating Enjolras’s attempts with what some may describe as real art.

“Hey, R, you have some paint on your nose? I don’t know how it got there, but I didn’t do anything, let me get it for you.” Enjolras dabbed at Grantaire’s nose with a clean finger, gently rubbing the spot clean, unaware of his slip in calling the other man by his nickname.

At that precise moment, Combeferre opened the door and walked in. “Enj, I’m here, sorry it took so long.” Combeferre stopped speaking as soon as he saw Enjolras with his finger frozen on the side of Grantaire’s nose.

“Don’t worry about it, Ferre.” Enjolras cleared his throat and stepped away from Grantaire. “Thanks for the lesson, but I don’t think I should set out for a career in fingerpainting.”

Grantaire squinted critically at the paper. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Enjolras burst out laughing and walked to the sink to wash his hands, shaking his head.

Hours later, Enjolras and Combeferre had successfully tackled three assignments from their professor and finished their study session for the week. Enjolras gathered his things and hugged Combeferre goodbye before walking to the door.

“Enjolras, wait a second,” called Grantaire from his easel. Enjolras paused and turned around, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes?”

“Let me see your phone.” Enjolras handed it to him and took it back, unsure what to expect. On his screen was Grantaire’s contact information, with his job listed as ‘fingerpainter extraordinaire.’

“For all your gourmet pb&j needs,” added Grantaire before winking. Enjolras, taken completely unprepared, blushed before turning rather abruptly and shutting the door behind him, too slow to not hear Grantaire’s cheerful laughter. Enjolras smiled to himself and shook his head.

**Author's Note:**

> the pb&j is based off of a real, now defunct, gourmet grilled peanut butter and jelly stand. I mourn the loss every day.


End file.
